Learning Your Voice
by MegasaurusRex101
Summary: A series of one shots and missing scenes revolving around Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy. Scenes range from Season 1 through present.
1. Chapter 1

This is potentially the first of a series of one shots involving Brian and Liv. This first one begins right after Save Benson. Also, sorry for the title.

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The car ride from the precinct to Brian's apartment is quiet and she's so grateful for that. She can feel in the silence the unanswered questions, the fear, the horror; she can almost curl up in the echoes and let it sweep her away.

She wants to reach across the console and hold his hand, but her cast won't let her.

It's late, and New York is as asleep as it ever will be, the street lights feel like strangers to her as they glide past, she wonders if they'll ever feel the same again. If night in New York City will ever beckon her with its drinks and laughter and dancing. She wonders if she'll ever be able to have a glass of alcohol again.

"We're here," Brian says, his voice low and rumbling and she blinks in surprise to find them in the car garage. She looks over at him and knows he's trying so hard to mask his emotions, she can see it in his tight jaw and clenched fingers. But he waits for her to move before he unbuckles his seatbelt, watches as she reaches to undo her belt only to get caught on her sling, his hands are warm when he helps her, his finger tips dancing over her skin as they move against the metal to undo her.

He gets out of the car first and she takes a deep breath as he walks to open her door for her, his hand reaching out for her to hold onto, taking care with her ribs as she stands.

Across the garage there's a loud crash as a metal gate opens and closes, echoing through the lot and into her bones. She hates the way she jumps at the noise. But Brian just squeezes her hand and leads her to the elevator.

They stand shoulder to shoulder and it feels like years since the Sunday morning they spent lounging in bed. She wants to close her eyes, but as soon as she does she's back on the floor of a van, a loud gunshot ringing in her ears and a jazz tune plays on repeat. She shudders and opens her eyes to find the elevator doors open and Brian waiting for her to walk through them.

His keys jangle in his hand as he opens his apartment door and she can practically feel her left breast burning, the ache tearing through her as she lets out a slow exhale.

Her footsteps feel like they echo in his hallway.

"I'm gonna go take a shower," she says, her voice nearly a whisper; she's treating silence as though it were sacred, as if she could fall into the cadence of the mute button on her life.

"Okay," he answers, his eyes full of worry, he looks at her cast, but does not offer to help, "I'll be here." He stands in his kitchen with his hands stuffed into his pockets and for the first time she realizes that he's wearing Fin's sweatshirt, possibly Fin's jeans too, by the way they fit; and she wonders if he stayed at the precinct the whole time she was missing. He hasn't said anything about it.

But instead of asking him she turns around and walks back down the hall.

His bathroom is small, but clean and there's fresh towels and that's all she really cares about right now.

Getting her clothes off is tough work; she's determined not to let out any gasps as the pain of movement rushes over her, she barely even lets herself grimace.

And she's naked, standing in front of the mirror. She's supposed to leave her bandages on. "Let them fall off naturally," the nurse had said. She presses her finger lightly against the ones on her breast and nearly falls to her knees in pain.

If she's very still she can just hear Brian moving around, but his steps are muted as he walks around and she'd bet he's already taken off his shoes.

The water warms quickly and she lets her good arm reach out to feel the temperature. Watches it dance over her hand and sluice down the drain. They'd let her take a rinse off in the shower at the hospital, but she'd been so eager to leave that she'd done little more than wash her hair.

She had never thought that wearing the same clothing for so many days could be so disgusting, not to say the least of all the dirt and blood and grime that seemed to be embedded into her very soul and skin now.

But she still stands outside the shower, her foot raised and ready to step in; but the falling water is loud and she can't seem to move.

Her whole body aches and she knows that with the adrenaline come and gone that sleep will be a welcome comfort, but first she must shower. Yet something holds her there, an invisible hand stilling her on the cold tile.

She chews on her lip, water falling like rain before her eyes.

"Brian," she calls out and winces as her voice echoes in the bathroom, dancing across the tile and feeling the sounds move through her body.

"Yeah," she hears outside the door almost immediately, his voice is still soft, but she thinks that maybe it's enough.

"Can you-" she trails off.

"Do you need me to come inside, Liv?"

She shakes her head no, before saying, "Can you just – can you just talk to me?"

She can practically hear him shifting outside the door and almost smiles at the confused look she knows is on his face.

"Just –" she sighs deeply, "I dunno, just tell me a story or-" she shrugs her shoulders, "Can you just talk?"

"Okay," he says, and his voice is louder through the door, she wonders if he's resting against it, his forehead pressed against the painted wood.

"Tell me that story again," she feels ridiculous, but she's too tired to care what he thinks, "the one about when you were a kid- the homerun."

"I can do that," he says as she steps into the shower, "It was July, late July and New York was going through a heatwave-"

He continues talking and she closes her eyes and lets the water and his voice wash over her.


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm updating quicker than I thought I would. I hope you enjoy this second one-shot. I made a style choice with how I wrote this and while I'm not certain it hit it's mark I figured any update was a good thing. This scene takes place after Brian transfers to Narcotics in Season One.**

* * *

"Hey this is Brian, leave a message after the beep."

A loud buzz rings through his apartment and then he hears the machine.

"Hey Brian, it's – it's me, Liv- I was just – the captain told us that you were transferring and – well I just wanted to see if you wanted to get a drink- maybe – maybe talk." He can hear her sigh over a pause. "I just – look this wasn't about me was it?" A loud beep ends whatever she may have said afterwards.

Brian can feel his phone in his hand, his finger poised over the redial button and a cold beer in his other. His finger tips thrum against both surfaces for a bit before his thumb presses hard against the phone and he can hear the ringing on the line.

"Hello," she answers.

"Hey, it's me."

"Brian, hi. I left a message on your machine."

He takes a long drink of his beer, his lips smacking as he gulps it down.

"I know that I haven't exactly been the nicest person to you since-since our night together," she begins.

"It wasn't that," he interrupts, one foot coming up to rest on his coffee table, scattering papers everywhere with the movement.

"I can't do this unit anymore, it's just –" he cradles the phone against his neck and jaw and runs a hand through his hair, "I'll do better in Narcotics. My brother always said I was a Narc," he says, laughing joylessly at his own joke.

"Do you wanna grab a drink? The night's young we can meet at-"

"Do you wanna go on a date?" he interrupts, his eyes closing as he rests deeper into the couch, his beer forgotten in his hand.

"Brian, I-"

"Bullshit aside, Liv. No expectations, no hang-ups. Just you, me, dinner, I dunno maybe a movie or something." He doesn't realize that he's holding his breath.

"Brian I- that sounds great and you're a great guy but-" and she lets the word dangle there for a moment while he lets himself breathe again, "I'm just too busy with work right now. I- well, you know how it is."

"I understand," he answers quickly, his hand back to holding the phone as he leans forward on the couch so that his feet are on the ground and his elbows rest on his knees. "I get it."

"We can still grab a drink, though- if you want."

He stands, and when he does he can feel the bones in his back crack and his shoulders sag a bit. "No. No I don't think I want to do that, Liv."

He's biting his lip and standing in the middle of his apartment.

"Oh," and she sounds surprised, genuinely surprised by his answer, "Okay."

They're both silent, Brian chewing his lip and Liv breathing softly on the other side of the line.

"I'll see you around, Brian."

"Yeah," he answers, "Bye."

He doesn't turn off the phone until he sees the 'Call Ended' flash across the screen. He sits back down on his couch, picking up his beer and taking another long drink.

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**And I'm not the type to beg for reviews, but I will say this . . . .hearing nice things about my writing typically inspires me to write more. **


	3. Chapter 3

So there was a bit of confusion about this series I'm doing. These chapters are all one shots and will not be in chronological order. They are not one cohesive story but more of a series of vignettes that are missing scenes between Brian and Liv or their take on certain scenes. I apologize for the misunderstanding and I'll do my best to give a description of where each scene takes place before I post it.

Also, thank you so much for your kind reviews, I truly appreciate the time you all have taken to tell me you enjoyed my story.

**This scene takes place during Lost Reputation/Above Suspicion just after Brian has been shot.**

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Brian always thought that if he ever got shot it would be a lot more painful. Now he has two bullets inside of his body and all he can really think about is the way Liv's hair falls in her face. Most of it is up in a ponytail, but her bangs are soft around her eyes; he wants to reach out and tuck it behind her ear but there's too many tubes holding him down in the ambulance and he really doesn't think he'd have the strength anyways.

He can feel her hand, slick with his blood, but it's so nice just to hold someone's hand. It's so nice to have someone beside him, her hand warm in his, grasping him as though by holding him she could keep him tethered to this world.

There are tears streaming down her face and that really surprises him. She's a bit hardened. A bit brittle. Liv was always seemed like one of those people who kept herself so tight together because the slightest fray could break her. But looking up at her now, he thinks maybe he underestimated her.

Her mouth is moving, but he can't hear what she's saying. He really thinks that he should be in a lot more pain than he is. If anything the pain seems to be going away, fading so quickly, and he wants to fall into the promised oblivion.

But she's saying something and he also wants to know what it is she's trying to tell him.

It wasn't that long ago she'd came back into his life, literally storming in with a smile and a quip, reminding him so easily of the old crush he'd had on her over a decade ago. And crush is the right word. She crushed him. But looking at her through his bruised face he knew that if she gave even the slightest opening he'd go for it again. He would gladly let her devastate him over and over again.

It wasn't that long ago she'd been underneath him, her body soft against his, her lips tasting like red wine. He almost smiled at the memory of her legs wrapped around him, at the little growl she'd make at the back of her throat when he'd kissed her breast.

He had wanted to play it cool. He'd wanted to show her that he wasn't a dumb rookie anymore. _Look what I've done Liv, see me playing hardball with the big boys, doing UCs you'd never have thought possible? _Lot of good it does now.

Except she is here, she is beside him, and she is holding his hand. So maybe it did work. Maybe it worked a little.

But he also wants to close his eyes. His eyelids are getting so heavy. And part of him thinks he could stare at her forever, even covered in sweat and blood and tears. But he also wants to close his eyes.

And as a long beep sounds he wonders which desire will win out.


	4. Chapter 4

This scene was actually the idea that started this whole series and I actually like the way it turned out. Enjoy. Takes place after Surrender Benson, possibly sometime between Surrender Benson and Imprisoned Lives

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The bedroom is quiet and dark and Liv tries not to let that unsettle her. She listens to the ticking of the clock and the sway of the ceiling fan but they do nothing to calm her.

For the first two or three weeks following her attack she'd slept on the couch because being on the bed, being on any bed was enough to keep her awake all night. Brian had removed the headboard like she'd asked him to, even though it was wood and not cast iron he'd still done it, and hadn't asked any questions.

And now weeks later she's resting her head on his chest and feeling the warmth of his skin and the soft rise and fall that he makes as he breathes. She tries to match her breathing to his, but her heart is pounding and she feels too dizzy to do anything but hold on.

Sometimes, on nights like this, she wishes that he would snore, something to let her know that he was there. But he never does snore and he hardly moves once he's found a comfortable spot; and so she's gotten into the habit of curling into him, feeling the press of his skin against hers and she tries to hold onto that connection when the nightmares come.

Tonight she needs more though; so she's wrapped his arm around her and placed her head on his heart, closing her eyes and trying to find the rhythm of his body. Her cheek presses against the welt of his scars, she's kissed those scars a million times, memorized their pattern on his skin.

The first time she'd seen him with his shirt off after being shot she'd stared at him, at the angry red welts beneath heavy bandages. "Chicks dig scars," he'd joked at the time. She'd laughed and kissed him to show how much she could appreciate a few battle wounds.

Now she lets the pads of her fingertips press against his skin, and she wonders if it's only women who love to kiss scars.

"You're still awake?" he asks, his voice deep from sleep and filling the room's silence.

His arm is heavy on her waist and she presses her nose against his shoulder quickly before murmuring, "I didn't mean to wake you."

He laughs as his hand skids over her arm, lightly brushing over her as his other hand comes up to press her closer to his heart.

She lets her fingertips continue their dance over his bullet wounds. She can feel his heartbeat, steady and comforting beneath her touch.

"Do you mind them? Your scars?" she asks and her voice feels like a shout in the quiet room.

He pauses his stroking of her arm before answering, "No, not really," his breath washing over her in soft exhale.

He's silent so long that she wonders if he's fallen asleep, until he adds, "They're part of me now. Hurt like hell. Definitely something I wouldn't have chosen to go through." She can feel his thumb start to make little circles over her shirt. "But -" he trails off.

"But what?" she asks, looking at him through the darkness.

She sees him smile down at her, his eyes still heavy with sleep, "I like when you do that. When you run your hands over the scars like that. When you kiss them."

She laughs softly and presses her lips to his skin, just over the raised marks before resting her head against him once more.

She can hear the sounds of the city now- late night taxis and somewhere in the distance a metal grate being rolled up.

"I have scars too," she whispers, half hoping he's still awake, half hoping he'd fallen back to sleep. She can almost feel the burn of metal against her flesh. She can almost smell her skin burning.

"Yeah," he whispers so quietly she'd think she'd imagined his response, if it weren't for the rise and fall of his chest as he spoke.

"You can kiss them," she whispers, her heart loud in her ears.

His whole body goes still before he pulls away just enough to see her eyes, his index finger hooking beneath her chin to raise her face to him.

His eyes look into hers, searching for something, and she figures he must have found what he was looking for because he presses his lips to hers.

"Brian," she whispers sitting up, but he does not move with her. She faces him, light from the windows falling across her face, raises one hand to her heart, pressing there briefly before slowly moving to the row of buttons along the front, undoing them one by one. But it's not until she shrugs the shirt from her shoulders that he reaches for her. His hand, so rough and calloused she could almost hear as it brushes against her skin. A wave of longing rushes through her and she wonders how long desire had laid there dormant, afraid to show its tail.

He finally sits up so they're facing one another, her thigh pressed against his and one hand resting on his waist. He reaches out for her, moving so slowly, and she can feel her heart pounding and her breath quickening and for once it isn't in fear or hate or anger, but in want. She wants him.

His fingers find her breast before his lips and she tilts her neck back to give him easier access, moaning as she feels his lips press against her scars.

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Thank you again for all of your reviews, it means so much to me to hear from you guys; even when it's just a simple "Great job". I do hope you're all enjoying this.


	5. Chapter 5

Sorry for the long bout between updates. My plot bunnies have been having a bit of a long nap. Blame them.

This scene takes place during Rhodium Nights and Lost Reputation after Brian is asked to be sent to lock up for the night to throw off suspicion with Gandel.

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Liv clanged against the bars with her hand, a taunting smile on her face as she dangled a set of keys at him.

"Time's up, Cassidy. We can't keep you here anymore."

Brian looked up from the hard metal bench he'd been lying on. "Are you kidding?"

Liv unlocked the cell and held the door open for him, her arm spread wide.

"Gandel's seen you in jail and he's gone home." She tossed her hair over her shoulder and he tried to think of a million different reasons why he'd let her walk out of his life. "I'm not doing the paperwork to keep you in here."

He couldn't think of one.

He stood up slowly, feeling his bones creak and wondering when he got so old.

"And what am I supposed to do? I can't go home? Not until tomorrow at least."

Liv chewed her lip thoughtfully and he couldn't help but smile – waiting to see if old habits really did die hard.

"You can get that look off your face," she teased, smirking at him -and he hated how unfair it was that thirteen years could pass and she could still make his heart race. "There are plenty of hotels you can stay at for the night."

He let his shoulder rest against the rail she was standing next to. "You're shooting me down before I even try?" He couldn't help but laugh, some things never changed.

"Wanna grab a beer?" he knew there was a slight hint of desperation in his voice, but more than anything, he just wanted to make sure she was still the same person. "Let me catch up with the one that got away?"

And something about her hard smile softening into a careless grin made him want to fall for her all over again.

"Let me get my coat," she answered.

He wasn't surprised when a beer turned into two beers and that turned into a glass of wine back at her place which turned into her lips pressed against his.

Brian was astonished to realize he still knew her body, his fingers running over scars and moles as if touching Braille. The soft growl in the back of her throat when his thumb ran over the back of her knee. How she would keen when he licked his way over her breasts and her hands gripping his hair when he finally delved his tongue deep inside of her wet folds. She even tasted the same.

She still liked to be on top, his hands cupping her hips, dragging her body against his, pulling her hard against him as if he could bury himself deep enough inside that she'd never ask him to leave.

And when it was over he could almost believe that her head on his shoulder was a real and lasting moment.

But soon enough she was resting on her own pillow and he was saying he needed to take a shower.

And when she came in a few moments later, clutching her phone and saying she had to leave he almost laughed.

Because he was right.

She was still the same old Liv.

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I make no promises about follow through, but if anyone has any ideas or requests for missing scenes feel free to let me know.


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